


Damage

by smutty_claus



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-10
Updated: 2009-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutty_claus/pseuds/smutty_claus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose grieves in her way.  Draco grieves in his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage

**Author's Note:**

> Written by [ginny___weasley](http://ginny---weasley.livejournal.com/) as part of the 2009 Smutty Claus exchange.

**To: scarletladyy  
From: Your Secret Santa**

 

> **Title:** Damage  
> **Author:** [ginny___weasley](http://ginny---weasley.livejournal.com/)  
> **Pairings:** Draco/Rose, past Scorpius/Rose  
> **Rating:** NC-17  
> **Warnings:** Nonconsensual sex, Torture, Psychological torment, Nonsexual bodily fluids, and character death.  
> **Summary:** Rose grieves in her way. Draco grieves in his.  
> **Author's Notes:** To my beta, K.: you'll never know how grateful I am for your help. No, really. Thank you _so_ much. , I hope you enjoy this. Happy holidays.

 

It's still snowing the day of the funeral. The blizzard has carpeted the ground in powder three meters thick. Pale curtains cling to the trees and lampposts, turning the world into a wall of white; a blank canvass, waiting for an artist's strokes.

She thinks it's appropriate.

All the color drained from _Rose's_ world the moment Scorpius died.

As she stares out of her bedroom window, she can think of nothing else. She imagines that, if a Dementor were to ever get near her, she would relive those seconds on an endless loop. And she would deserve it. After all, she killed him.

At least, that's what Mr. Malfoy had said when he forbade her from attending the service.

She wonders if it makes a difference that he gave those orders. Rose isn't convinced she would have had the guts to go, to see her boyfriend lying cold and dead because of something _she_ had asked him to do, because of something _her father_ had said and done. Perhaps it's best that she stays away. Maybe Mr. Malfoy has done her a favor.

Tears slip free of her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. She's surprised they've taken this long to re-emerge. It's been three minutes.

Rose closes her eyes as tightly as she can. And the image she sees, of Scorpius' blood staining the snow, not only makes them fly back open, but also sends her fleeing her room, straight into the bathroom.

She hasn't eaten much in the last days and the acidic whatever-comes-up-when-humans-are-sick feels like it's melting her throat. But she can't stop it. It flows and it flows until she's exhausted and gagging on nothing. She holds her stomach, remaining on her knees beside the toilet until she's sure this round is over. Then she stumbles to the sink and rinses her mouth, splashing icy water on her face in the hope of looking less like a demonic gerbil. But all it does is make her look like a _wet_ demonic gerbil.

And the tears start again.

Merlin, she is _so sick_ of crying.

With a shaky breath, she wipes her face and leaves the bathroom. As she approaches her room, the sound of someone else nearby stops her. It isn't that she's interested in which of her constantly-orbiting family members is watching her this time. It's just an instinctual reaction to stop and look.

"Rosie?"

Dad, this time. She sighs, but says nothing.

"Are you okay?"

She gives him her most withering stare, the one that he says reminds him that Rose is her mother's daughter.

"We're about to have lunch. Come eat with us."

"Not hungry." She turns to go.

"How can you not be hungry? You haven't eaten since Scorpius-"

"I'm not hungry," she says, spinning back around, anger bubbling in her like a potion over a flame. "But if I were, I'd lose my appetite the second I saw _you._ Either way, I am _not_ eating with you."

She turns on her heel and races away, heedless of his calls telling her to come back.

Her door slams shut behind her. She wishes she were a Muggle-born, so that casting a _Colloportus_ would actually have a point. But Dad can _Alohamora_ it back open without tensing a muscle. The best she can do is wait for him to follow her, and pounce on him with the full force of her anger when he does.

But no one comes to the door. Maybe he's finally decided to leave her alone.

She sinks into her bed, curling up as tightly as she can. And the tears flow until sleep claims her.

_She's standing in a graveyard, but that's the only sign of death. The sun shines brightly, warming her skin. Birds flit from the trees to the ground and back again, building their spring nests. Bees are buzzing, ants are crawling. Everything in the world is bathed in hope and optimism. _

She begins to walk along the rows of gravestones, her feet barely touching the grass. With each step she takes, a little color fades from her surroundings; the weather grows increasingly bleak, until everything around her is gray and overcast, and there is a chill in the air.

The stones around her are all obscured. Ice has frosted over their faces, concealing the identities of those buried beneath them. Only one name remains visible.

Scorpius Malfoy.

She reaches out to touch it, but before she does, a familiar voice stops her cold.

"Rose."

Heart pounding, Rose freezes, almost afraid to turn around.

A hand touches her shoulder, and she starts, now afraid not _to turn._

Standing face-to-face with her is Scorpius, his blond hair waving in the breeze, and his pale eyes dancing with life.

Rose can't speak. She can hardly breathe. All she can do is act. She throws her arms around his neck, hugging him so close, it's as if she's trying to meld their bodies into one. He holds her to him, his arms at her lower back. She's so at home here, in his arms, so happy she could cry. Except...

"No." She pulls back enough to look at him. "This isn't right."

His face shows only concern. What do you mean? It feels right to me."

"Y-Yeah. But... But it isn't. It can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because... You're..." She can't say it. Pulling out of his hold, she tries again. "I saw you..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Scorpius... You're... You're dead."

At that, he smiles. "Don't be ridiculous. Do I look dead to you?"

"No, but-"

"Then don't you think you're being a little silly?" He steps toward her, his arms outstretched, as if to hug her again.

Rose keeps her distance. "You're dead. I know you're dead."

As he gets closer, Rose sees a faint scar on his forehead, as if he had acquired an injury many years before and the signs of it have at last begun to fade. With another step, the scar becomes darker, more pronounced. The closer Scorpius gets, the more obvious it becomes, until it isn't a scar, but a fresh wound. Blood pours from the cut, coating one side of his face, dripping onto the ground.

Rose stumbles back, tripping over her own feet in her haste to get away from him. She crashes into the headstone and falls onto the grass.

"Of course I'm dead," Scorpius says, standing over her. "You killed me. And it's only fair that I return the favor."

The grave beneath her opens. Two rotting hands grab her, pulling her under before she can think to run.

Rose wakes to a racing heart and a dark room. She's gasping for air, fighting off the non-existent corpse-hands that no longer have a hold on her.

She sits up, holding her face in her hands and wondering how much longer she'll be forced to endure this torment. Even her own mind has turned against her.

A knock at her door doesn't even startle her. She intends to remain silent, and hope whoever it is goes away. When the door starts to open, she realizes she'll have no such luck.

"Oh, good," Aunt Ginny says. "You're awake."

"Yeah," Rose mutters. "Guess I am."

Aunt Ginny comes in, leaving the door open behind her. She sits on Rose's bed, watching her with concern. Before she can speak, however, Rose does.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your mum and dad invited us for dinner."

"Who's us?" Rose asks.

"Me, your Uncle Harry, James, Al, and Lily."

"Oh." Of course.

"Why don't you come downstairs and eat with us?"

She sighs, curling back up. "Because I'm not hungry."

Aunt Ginny is quiet for a long moment. Then she says, "Rosie, sweetie, I know how you're feeling, and-"

"No." Rose bolts out of bed with the speed of someone who has just discovered a rattlesnake beside them. Rounding on her aunt, she bites out, "No, you don't. I loved Scorpius. I know no one likes to hear me say that, but it's the truth. You married your first love. So did Uncle Harry, and Mum and Dad. The only person I will ever love is dead because of something _I_ asked him to do. None of you can know how I feel. And I wish the lot of you would stop saying that you do."

Aunt Ginny rises to stand beside her. "Rose, you didn't kill Scorpius."

"I know. That was-"

"A Muggle woman. And it was an accident."

"He wouldn't have been outside in the first place if-"

"You know, when your Uncle Fred died, all of us did this. If he hadn't been on that floor at that time... If he hadn't been distracted for that one, tiny moment... If I'd been there, I could have protected him. You know something? It doesn't help. Not at all. It just makes everyone feel worse. Percy took it the hardest. He blamed his joke for distracting Fred. But really, the only person to blame was the one who cast the spell. That helped us start to move on. You know what else helped?"

"I bet it wasn't everyone and their Patronus telling you that they knew how you felt."

"No. It was just... moving on."

Rose snorts in disgust. "So you're telling me to just... pretend that it never happened and get on with my life."

"I'm telling you that the only way to get past this is to move forward. Don't stay locked in your room, thinking about what did happen, what didn't, what could have... It will drive you mad. And that I _do_ know. From my own experience."

Rose crosses her arms. "I go eat dinner and... then what? All the pain is gone? Like magic, right?"

"Not all. Not much. Maybe not any. At first. But if you try every day, eventually you won't have to try at all. And you might still miss him, but you'll be okay. Trust me."

Rose considers it. She's unconvinced. "I'm not hungry." She pushes past Aunt Ginny and returns to her bed.

"Then come and sit at the table. You don't have to eat. Just spend some time with us. You won't regret it. You might even thank me."

"I doubt it. On both counts."

"Okay. Stay here. But as long as you're here, I'm staying, as well. And I'm going to keep talking about the best ways to heal from this, just so you're warned. When Harry snuck off to face off with Voldemort the night of that battle, and we all thought he was dead-"

"Aunt Ginny, stop it. The last thing I want to hear about is someone who survived the death curse twice when Scorpius died from something even Muggles walk away from."

"My point is-"

"I don't care." She launches out of bed again, desperate to get away from Aunt Ginny.

"Rose. Please." She's just behind her. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just-"

"I still don't care. Just leave me alone."

"I'm just trying to show you that-"

Rose faces her, now desperate to put an end to the conversation. "Look, if I go and sit at the table, will you stop?"

Aunt Ginny sighs. It's evident that she wants to say more, to possibly diffuse Rose's anger, but all she says is, "Yeah. I'll stop."

"Fine."

Rose storms through the door and downstairs to meet her family.

Dinner is awkward. No doubt in an attempt to make Rose feel better, Mum's made chicken, Rose's favorite. But today the smell clogs Rose's nostrils like something foul, making her feel ill again. She pushes it away, and instead tries a carrot. Her stomach growls, the acid descending upon the vegetable in fear that it will never receive another scrap of food. Rose takes another bite, and the reality of how hungry she is finally dawns on her.

The conversation resumes as soon as she takes her third bite, as if everyone were waiting to make sure she wasn't going to run back upstairs. Rose does not join in. She eats everything on her plate, hardly aware of what it is or what it tastes like, but she still avoids the chicken.

She looks at Mum and Dad. They keep whispering to each other, and trying to steal covert looks at her. It doesn't take long before Rose gets annoyed.

"I'm sitting right here, and I can see you," she says.

Mum gives Dad pointed look.

"Rosie," he says in a tone that suggests he's trying hard not to upset her. "We're sorry you have to go through this. But you're so wonderful. You deserve so much better than-"

"Stop it," she says. "I don't want to hear you insulting him, or saying he isn't good enough for me. You don't know what you're talking about."

She pushes her chair back, intent on leaving the room.

"Wait," Mum says.

"What for?" Rose asks. She looks at Aunt Ginny. "You were wrong."

"Rose, get back here," Mum calls.

But it's no use. Rose bolts back up to her room. She expects one of her parents, or Aunt Ginny, or even Uncle Harry to follow. But no one does.

For two days Mum or Dad or Aunt Ginny or Uncle Harry come to talk to her. There's even a disastrous attempt by Uncle George to cheer her up. Uncle Harry tries to tell her something about seeing Scorpius on the other side of the veil and, when Rose doesn't understand, says he needs to write to Luna and ask her to come explain.

Even though she finds it all irritating, it's preferable to her dreams. Each time she drifts off, she finds herself alone with Scorpius, who blames her for his death, for causing it, for not stopping it. It's enough to make her want to exert the effort to brew a potion for dreamless sleep.

The night of the second day, Rose waits until she's certain the rest of the family is shut away in their respective rooms before she ventures out. She's been sneaking food at night in an effort to avoid them, and she hopes she doesn't meet with anyone now.

Outside the kitchen, she hears voices. Silently cursing, she turns to go.

"So what?" Dad's voice asks. "Draco's always been a mental git. They should put him in St. Mungo's."

"That is completely unnecessary," Mum says.

"Why? He should be locked up. He can keep Lockhart company."

"He hasn't done anything wrong."

"Lately."

"It's all just rumor. No one has seen him since the funeral. And he stayed at his manor before that. How can anyone say he's going mad?"

"Because they've met him."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron. He just lost his son. No one can say how he should react to that. If it'd been Hugo-"

"I'm not going to have any sympathy for Malfoy. And neither should you, after what he said to Rosie."

Mum goes quiet. Then, she says, "Yeah. I think he got to her. She won't stop blaming herself."

"She's not blaming herself. She's blaming me."

"What?"

"She said so yesterday."

"Oh." A pause. "She's just upset right now. Give her some time. She'll see it wasn't your fault."

"Because Rosie isn't stubborn at all." He sighs. "I'm going to go tell her about Malfoy."

"What? Why?"

"It'll cheer her up. Maybe she'll stop sneaking out of her room in the middle of the night and actually talk to me again."

"You're not telling her about this. It's the last thing she needs."

It's now that Rose realizes she's eavesdropping. If Dad is on his way to see her, she decides she ought to retreat to her room and lock herself inside. _Colloportus_ may not work, but putting her bookshelf in front of the door might.

Back in her room, Rose waits. A quarter of an hour passes with no sign of Dad. When forty-five minutes have ticked by and he still doesn't show, she assumes Mum won the argument after all.

She doesn't hear from another living soul until the next night.

She's in bed, trying to sleep, when a tapping at her window catches her attention. At first, she thinks it's a twig or something the wind blew against the glass. But when the tapping doesn't stop, she looks and sees an unhappy owl fluttering just outside. It's the first time in days that the snow isn't coming down at blizzard strength, but it's still snowing, and the owl is clearly annoyed at having been sent on this mission.

Rose lets it in, figuring it's Luna's response to Uncle Harry's request, or something from one of her cousins, asking how she is. But as it hops onto her dresser, she sees it's neither of those. It's an eagle owl. Specifically, Scorpius' eagle owl. And it has a package attached to its leg.

Her first feeling is that she's dreaming again. That she'll open the package and find a howler from Scorpius, blaming her for his death. The next feeling is an overwhelming need to know what the owl has brought her. She relieves it of its burden and unwraps the package.

Inside is a small wrapped box, on top of which is a folded bit of parchment. She opens it and finds a short note in Scorpius' handwriting.

_Just so you know, I'm still annoyed that you wouldn't just tell me what you wanted for Christmas. But I still wanted to get you something. Before you see it, I want to make it clear that you aren't allowed to tease me for it. I only got it 'cause I thought you'd like it, so any remarks about sappiness or romance are forbidden. And if you don't like it, it's your own fault for not telling me what to get you in the first place._

Thank you for keeping the secret. I know it sucks, but it won't be much longer. I promise.

Happy Christmas.

Her heart feels as if stabbed by a dagger at seeing Scorpius' words before her, at hearing the affectionate teasing in every sentence. It makes her want to throw her arms around him, and give him the most passionate kiss she's capable of.

But she can't.

Because he's dead.

As reality crashes down on her like an avalanche, Rose's stomach shrinks to the size of a wand-tip. Scorpius didn't send this to her. He can't have. Still, the note is definitely in his handwriting, and it was definitely delivered by his bird. But it's got to be a trap of some kind. Probably set up by Mr. Malfoy, who would have access to his son's owl. She can't think of such a clear explanation for the note. And the mention of the secret, about which Mr. Malfoy doesn't know.

Unsure what to do, Rose decides to start with the basics. She grabs a book that Mum gave her on revealing enchantments over objects. As she's about to cast one of the spells, she stops. It'll be better to take it to Mum, and have her cast the spells in front of Dad and Hugo. They can all be witnesses if Mr. Malfoy has tried to hurt her. And she bets Scorpius would be proud of her for thinking of it.

The owl has been picking at the wrapping paper, as though trying to get to the box himself. Rose brushes him aside and, with an indignant hoot, he takes off, soaring out of the window. She grabs the box and starts to turn to go.

But she can't move. Nor can she drop the box.

Just as she begins to panic, she feels something hook around her navel, pulling her off the ground and forward into the ether. Her stomach jolts as the magic whisks her away.

She lands on rough, uneven ground. Rocks dig into her bare feet. The box falls to the ground, and Rose realizes it was the holes in the paper that allowed her skin to come into contact with the Portkey. She wants to curse herself for such obscene stupidity, but before she can think of anything insulting enough, another voice speaks.

"Easier than I thought."

There's just enough time for Rose to catch sight of a receding blond hairline before a bright flash of light sends her into unconsciousness.

*~*~*

When she wakes, she's disoriented, but can tell that she's sitting upright, against something rigid and uncomfortable. At first, she isn't sure what's going on. The last thing she remembers is trying to take the box to Mum. Then, the memories come back to her, and her insides feel liquefied. She looks around, trying to spot Mr. Malfoy, but there's no sign of him.

When she tries to stand, she finds she can't. It's then that she notices that her arms are bound behind her, secured against what is most likely a chair that Mr. Malfoy has placed her on. Her legs, however, are free.

The place she's in is dark. Judging from the earth beneath her feet, she's outside. But she can't see the sky. At least, not directly above her. Several feet in front of her, she can make out the distant twinkling stars. As her eyes grow more accustomed to the darkness, it becomes clear that there are walls around her. She must be in a cave.

In the shadows are peculiar shapes that she can't identify.

She twists her wrists and arms, trying to worm out of the bonds. The ropes loosen a bit, but not much.

"Don't bother."

She freezes. "Mr. Malfoy?"

Mr. Malfoy steps into the light. Rose is sure he hadn't been in the cave a moment ago, not even lurking in the shadows. Yet, here he is, without even a small crack or pop to indicate he'd Apparated in.

As Mr. Malfoy draws nearer, she can see how disheveled he is. His usually impeccable attire hangs off him, wrinkly and askew as if he's slept in it for weeks. His smell supports this idea. There's an odd glint in his eyes and though Rose's contact with him has been limited to seeing him at King's Cross and just after Scorpius' death, she's positive he's never looked that way before. It's unnerving. As is his silence.

"Mr. Malfoy," she says in her sternest voice, "I don't know what you're playing at, but you'd better let me go. Dad'll eviscerate you if you-"

"No one is going to find you. Ever."

"You think we don't know where you live?"

"Because I would be stupid enough to bring you to my house? We aren't even in England any more. And we're well hidden. No one can break through my spells.

"My dad can. He's one of the best Aurors there is. He'll come after you."

"Let him try."

Rose can't believe anyone would be so stupid as to kidnap her and challenge not only Dad, but Mum, Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, and every member of the Weasley family.

"Are you _mental?_" The words are out before Rose realizes they may not have been the best choice.

He smiles. "So they say."

Her mouth goes dry. She tries to swallow, but her tongue and throat are uncooperative. She tests her bonds again. Her hands can wriggle in them, but they won't come off. "What... what do you want?"

"Want?" There's a bite in his tone. His eyes have darkened, and his frown is so deep that his eyebrows are almost meeting. "What do I _want?_"

Rose isn't sure she wants to know any more.

"I want _my son._ I want Scorpius alive and safe with me. But that's not going to happen. Because of you."

"Mr. Malfoy," she says slowly. She knows she has to be careful with what she says; she can't upset him. "I know you loved Scorpius and you must feel terrible right now. But I didn't kill him."

"If you hadn't poisoned his mind, he'd still be alive."

"I didn't..." She stops. Arguing will only make him angry. "I can't give Scorpius back to you. Nothing can. And killing me won't change that."

"No. It'll just make me happy."

She feels like she's going to be sick. Her struggles become more urgent, and she can feel the ropes loosening even more. She doesn't understand why Mr. Malfoy didn't think to use some sort of magical restraints, but thank Merlin he didn't.

"Of course then I'll have to hear about how tragic it all was, but at least you're with my son in death." He looks as if he'd rather feast on hippogriff dung with bubotuber pus. "Can't have that. It's too easy for you."

Rose hasn't liked anything she's heard so far, but likes that bit the least. "What do you _want_, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I want to torture you. And when I'm done, then maybe I'll let you die. If you beg enough."

He says it so matter-of-factly that Rose is certain that he's either screwing with her, or she's imagined it. But that odd, almost feral glint is back. Feeling like a frantic cat is clawing at her stomach, Rose realizes he's serious, and maybe Mum shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss concerns for Mr. Malfoy's sanity.

"Mr. Malfoy." Rose's voice is shaking. She doesn't even try to stop it. "Please."

He laughs, a low, mirthless, guttural sound. "No, no. The begging comes later."

"L-Listen-"

"To what? You denying responsibility for what you did to my son? No, I don't think so." He starts to walk toward her.

Rose tries to move the chair back, but it's stuck fast.

"Tell me what secret you were keeping, and I might feel a little more merciful."

"Secret?" She looks around for her wand, hoping it's nearby on the ground. She's positive she was holding it when the Portkey brought her here. Does Mr. Malfoy have it?

"The one my son wrote to you about."

Her eyes snap back to him. "Scorpius didn't write that. He can't have."

"He did. It seems he wanted to give you that necklace for Christmas. I found it, and the note, and decided to use it to bring his murderer to justice. I know that's what he would have wanted."

Rose wants to say that he doesn't know Scorpius as well as he thinks, but that would not only make him angry, but ruin the lie she's about to tell.

"I wasn't keeping any secret," she says. "I don't know what he was talking about."

Mr. Malfoy's eyes flash, almost as if lightning had struck within them. He pulls his wand from inside his robes and points it at her.

"_Wait_," she shouts. "Okay. I'll tell you."

He doesn't respond, but he doesn't attack, either.

"Scorpius told me not to say anything, but he..." For a split second, it occurs to her that it's a horrible lie, but she hasn't got the time to think of a better one. "...He'd heard about an uprising. Someone wanting to follow after Voldemort and Grindelwald. He thought you might be part of it, and he asked me to wait until he could find out one way or the other before I told my Dad and Uncle Harry."

Rose can't tell if Mr. Malfoy believes her or not. The fury she sees on his face could be an indicator of either. He starts for her, apparently forgetting he's got a wand. She doesn't wait to see what he's going to do. As soon as he's close enough she kicks at him with all her strength.

Her foot connects with his crotch, and he falls forward, curling up as if that might soothe the injury.

Knowing she hasn't got much time, Rose takes a deep breath and tries to force her arms free. It's no use. Her heart starts racing faster, and she begins moving her hands and arms in random, frantic twists and turns, wanting only to get free.

After a few seconds, it works. The ropes begin to loosen, and her hands are slipping free.

Mr. Malfoy groans, and a quick glance at him tells Rose that he's getting up. The pain must be receding. But she'll be free soon, and that means she'll be able to fight back. Maybe take his wand from him. She can't Apparate while she's fighting him - she won't risk splinching herself, and she won't be able to concentrate anyway - but maybe she'll be able to hail the Knight Bus and get back home. Then he'll regret this. He'll be locked up in Azkaban.

Just as the ropes slither to the ground, and Rose thinks she can run from the cave, Mr. Malfoy grabs her around her middle, pulling her backwards. The backs of her knees touch the edge of the chair, and Rose knows that if he binds her to it again, she might not get away a second time. He'll be smart enough to use magic this time, she's sure of it. She flails around, kicking, punching, wriggling, anything she can do to break his hold. She feels his fingers slip every so often, but he always grabs her again.

She keeps trying, hoping that if she makes enough of a fuss, he won't have the chance to get a good hold on his wand and cast a spell.

In the end, he doesn't need to.

He stops trying to pull her back and instead lunges forward in the very direction she's trying to run, using her own momentum against her. She falls with no time to catch herself. Her chin collides with the ground, and she bites her tongue.

It's nothing compared to the pain she feels when Mr. Malfoy snakes his hand into her hair and slams her head against the ground. And then he does it again. She tries to throw him off, but he's bigger and stronger, and his full weight is on her back.

"You... stupid... little... bitch." He punctuates each word with another slam of her head.

Her vision is swimming with tears of pain. Her head is ringing, and she can taste the blood from her split tongue. She thinks he's forgotten about his threat to torture her, and has decided to kill her now. It surprises her when he stops.

Standing, he pulls her to her feet by her hair. "Did you think you could escape? That it would really be that easy?"

There's something warm trickling down her forehead, and, though she can't see it, she's sure it's blood. She grabs his hand, trying to pry it loose.

Jerking her hair so violently that Rose is convinced he's pulled a handful free, he demands, "Answer me."

"Well, there _is_ a giant opening there. Even you must have noticed it."

"You're just as arrogant as your slut mother, thinking no one is as smart as you. Do you want to see what'll happen to you if you get near that hole?"

Suddenly, Rose isn't so eager to approach the mouth of the cave. But she has no choice. Mr. Malfoy marches over to it, dragging her with him.

"Stop," she says, trying to slide her fingers under his and weaken his hold.

It doesn't work. A meter from the entrance, he pauses. One hand still holding on to her, he picks up a rock and throws it at the cave's mouth. It incinerates before it crosses the threshold.

"Still want to go out there?" He starts to drag her forward again. "Do _you?_"

"No." She starts to pull back. "No, stop it."

"Stupid whore." He pushes her down, and she lands on her butt. "Think it's clever to kick people?"

Rose sees what he's going to do, and throws up her arms to block her face. It's useless. Mr. Malfoy kicks her right in the stomach, and all the air in her body makes a hasty exit. She coughs, holding on to her abdomen. It hurts beyond belief, and she hasn't any time to brace herself before he kicks her again, this time connecting with her shoulder.

She glares up at him. She can't leave, but that doesn't mean she's going to surrender. If she can get his wand, maybe she can incapacitate him long enough to remove that barrier and get out of here.

Taking a deep breath, Rose charges at him, using all her weight to knock him backwards. Her action catches him off guard, and he falls onto his back. She wastes no time in going after his wand, trying to wrestle it out of his hand. When he grabs her hair, she bites the hand still holding the wand, and he grunts, releasing her, but not the wand. She punches him in the face, and when he clamps his hand to his eye, succeeds in getting her prize.

But Mr. Malfoy rolls over, and Rose falls. Once again, she's trapped beneath him. Before he can place his weight on her, she kicks, delivering two blows to his body. He falls on top of her, gasping. Wherever she kicked him, it was clearly a tender spot. He backhands her, and her head snaps to one side.

One of his hands closes around hers. His fingers are pressing into her wrist, and pain, like knives cutting nerves, shoots through her entire arm. Her fist tightens, but it hurts too much to keep fighting. Mr. Malfoy slides the wand out of her hand.

Pointing it at her, he says, "It's time to break you of that habit."

Though he utters no further words, light issues from his wand, and Rose feels something wrap around her entire body, coils of magic gagging her, tying her arms to her sides, and her legs together. The only part of her that's moving is her heart. It's as if someone cast some kind of accelerating charm, because she's sure the human heart doesn't beat this rapidly on its own.

She wants to say something to him. Something that will make him see how foolish it is to do what he's doing. Something that will convince him to let her go. But she can't think of anything. And, even if she could, she can't voice it.

Mr. Malfoy levitates her, taking her to the back of the cave. He drops her on her back. His face falls into a frown as he considers her.

"No." He points the wand at her. "On second thought... Yeah..." His half-smile is creepy. "I want to hear you."

Another jet of light, and the coil around her mouth vanishes. Rose can speak, but the bindings stop her moving. She wastes no time in trying to dissuade him.

"Mr. Malfoy, listen to me. You haven't thought about this. It isn't some fantasy where you get to hurt me and no one can touch you. My dad is going to _kill_ you. When some people say that, they're exaggerating, but my dad _really will_ kill you. The only chance you've got is to let me go. Now."

Mr. Malfoy approaches her, looking as though he's trying to figure something out. Then the half-smile returns. He holds up his wand, like he wants to be sure she's looking at it. There's no need for such a dramatic approach; Rose wouldn't look away from him or his wand for a fraction of a millisecond.

Several long moments pass before anything happens. Then flames burst from the tip of his wand.

Panic seizes Rose. He's going to set her on fire. He's going to burn her to a charred skeleton right here and now. She struggles to get free, tries to twist, turn and strain her way out as she did before, but she can't move at all. It looks like Mr. Malfoy has learned his lesson.

And now he's going to make her learn hers.

He closes the distance between them, placing the wand close to her face. It's as if he's pushed her head into a furnace. She tries to jerk away and finds that she can turn her head, but the rest of her is still immobile. She hides part of her face in the dirt, but can still feel beads of sweat forming on her neck.

She tenses, bracing herself. Knowing that begging won't make the slightest difference, she refuses to try. She won't give Mr. Malfoy the satisfaction.

But the heat recedes, moving down her body. When she can feel it at her stomach, she chances looking.

He's guiding the wand along her body, an empty look in his eyes. It's not even as if he's trying to decide where best to set her on fire. There's just... nothing there, as if he's thinking about something else, or doesn't realize where he is, or... she doesn't know. All she knows is the look is as unsettling as the madman about to burn her until she smolders, and she can do nothing to get away from it.

Mr. Malfoy doesn't stop until he reaches her feet. Rose thinks that perhaps all he wanted was to scare her, and now he's done. Then he pushes the wand closer, and fire engulfs her flesh.

She screams as the smell of burning skin fills the cave. The flames have singed the skin of her feet clean away. That's the only explanation for what she's feeling: pain that extends past her muscles, straight into her bones as if it is trying to blacken them as well. She tries to writhe, to twist in some way that might lessen the pain.

But she can't.

All she can do is scream and twist her head, first one way, and then another. The fire grows more intense, making her feel as if she might pass out, or vomit, or both simultaneously. She thinks she might drown in her own sick.

A sharp, almost blinding pain tells her she's begun to beat her head against the ground. She tries to stop, but her body's need to do something in response to what is happening will not allow her to. She's stopped being able to think about anything other than the pain.

She doesn't know how long it lasts before Mr. Malfoy stops. It's only then that she realizes her screams have stopped, and instead she's started shouting, "Stop. Please, stop!" over and over again, and tears are flowing from her eyes.

She can't see her feet, but she imagines they look like the black rocks Mum's parents use when they cook outside in that grill.

"You want me to stop?" Mr. Malfoy asks.

Rose coughs, and a wad of thick mucus coats her mouth. She spits it out, along with a groan; even though Mr. Malfoy has ceased his torment, her feet still feel like they are on fire.

He grabs her hair, forcing her head back as he shoves the wand in front of her. "Unless you want the same treatment on your face, you'll answer me."

Her insides tighten. "Ye..." She starts to cough again, choking on her own phlegm. When she can speak, she says, "Yes. Stop."

"Then give me a damn good reason to."

She knows what he wants. He wants to know the secret Scorpius mentioned in his letter. But she can't tell him that. "I'm sorry I kicked you," she whispers.

His laugh is cold. "You're sorry you kicked me?" He tightens his grip. Forcing her neck back painfully, he brings his face to within centimeters of hers. "You are the dumbest bitch I have ever known. You must be one hell of a fuck."

"I-"

"Shut up. You want this to stop? You tell me what I want to know. And you admit you killed my son."

"I told you... Scorpius wanted time to investigate you. And a Muggle killed Scorpius. It wasn't-"

He lets her go. "Fine. I'll get more creative." He stands.

"Mr. Malfoy, please." Rose tries and fails to sit up. "I am telling the truth."

"My son would not betray me, and certainly not to the likes of you. You were just someone to fuck, and you know it."

"If I was just a fuck-buddy, why would he get me a romantic gift? The necklace you tricked me into touching is proof-"

"That you're a gullible whore who'll spread her legs for anyone with money."

"No. It's proof of how he felt."

Mr. Malfoy lifts his wand. Rose cringes, but he's only summoning the box. He opens it, and pulls out the necklace.

It's a heart-shaped red rose, with some kind of green gem in the center.

"There's a hinge," he says. "It opens. But my son has enchanted it. I can't open it. I assume you know the spell."

"I only know _Alohamora._" Taking advantage of his calmer attitude, she says, "Please, Mr. Malfoy. I am sorry about everything that happened. And... And I'm sorry that Scorpius suspected you. But you can't-"

"Can't." His eyes flash. "_Can't?_" Tossing the necklace to one side, he says, "I can do whatever I want." He points his wand at her.

Rose begins to float off the ground. Mr. Malfoy turns his wrist, and she's right side up, her feet dragging along the rocks. She gasps, trying not to cry out at the pain that shoots right up to her knees. It feels as if her feet are being split apart, bones pried open to allow the sharp edges of the stones to slice at her. She almost doesn't want to look down, but does anyway. The tops of her feet aren't black, as she had anticipated. They are, however, red, swollen, and blistering. She tries to lift them up, but the binding spell prevents it.

"You're all the same, you Potters and Weasleys," Mr. Malfoy says. "You get away with everything and think no one is as smart or as crafty as you are. And twenty-five years after I thought your lot had reached the height of its arrogance, I meet you. You murder an innocent boy, you get away with it, and then you tell me what I can and can't do."

Rose is too occupied with clenching her jaw to respond.

"I don't know what my son saw in you," he goes on, leading her towards the center of the cave.

She doesn't see where he's taking her until they've arrived. A pair of chains hang from the top of the cave, merging into one as they approach the bottom. A manacle dangles from the end of the chain, which is meters above Rose's head.

"Tell me what I want to know, or I'm going to hang you from that until your arms tear off," he says.

"No." She grunts, trying to escape the magical restraints. "No, please."

"I'm not hearing what I want to hear."

Rose looks at the manacle. Already she can feel pain in her arms, and she has no doubt that Mr. Malfoy will leave her in it until they disconnect from her body. Reason tells her to say whatever Mr. Malfoy wants her to say; there's no point in keeping the secret any longer, and even if she admits to killing Scorpius, she'll know it isn't true.

But she can't bring herself to betray her promise any more than she can force a false admission of guilt out of her mouth.

"Please," she says again. "Please let me go. Don't do this."

"This is your last chance."

"Fine," she says. "Okay. Fine." She takes a deep breath. "Scorpius was planning to leave England as soon as he finished school."

Mr. Malfoy frowns. "You're lying."

"No." She hopes she sounds convincing. "No, I'm not."

"Where was he planning to go?"

She blinks. "Russia."

It's obvious from his expression that he knows she's lying. He waves his wand, and the spell releases her. She falls to the ground, but before she can do anything else, he pulls her up and takes hold of her wrists. She wants to fight to get away, but can't plant her feet firmly enough to have any leverage.

He lifts her hands above her head, and she feels cold metal close around them. Her feet are lifted off the ground, her full weight supported only by the manacle.

"See if a few hours like that won't jar your memory." He vanishes just as unobtrusively as he arrived, with no sign or sound of Apparation.

Rose doesn't understand how this will possibly compel her to talk. Compared to the fire, it's nothing. A little uncomfortable, maybe, but nothing she can't cope with.

Or, at least, that's what she thinks at first. After a few minutes, the discomfort becomes an ache in her arms and back. She wants to find a more comfortable position, but without the ability to place her feet on the ground, she finds it difficult to maneuver. She tries anyway, and begins to swing back and forth, making the manacle pull at her even more.

Her arms and back begin to burn, as if they are stretching beyond their limit. She stretches her whole body, hoping to get her toes on the ground and alleviate some of the burden on her arms. But that just makes it worse.

Minutes pass. The burning intensifies. Despite knowing that movement only makes the torture worse, Rose can't help squirming around, trying to find a way to lessen the torment. It feels as if hippogriffs have sunk their claws into her and are slowly trailing them down her body and it's horrible and why won't it stop, please just make it stop.

She's starting to sweat. She brings her knees toward her chest in the vain hope that she will be less heavy this way. It doesn't work. In fact, she thinks she might actually be heavier. Rose tries to will her body to relax. Perhaps, if she's less tense, her muscles will stop aching so much. But the pull of her full weight just makes it all worse. She gives up; there's no finding comfort as long as she's dangling in mid-air.

She doesn't know how long she's hanging there. Long enough to sweat so much, it looks as if she's dunked her head in water. Long enough for her arms to feel like they're going to break off, and for her back to start spasming. She's never known such torture. Mum told her once that the Cruciatus is the worst pain one can ever experience. But this is worse. It has to be.

The thought of Mum leads her to Dad. She feels horrible for how she treated him, how she blamed him for Scorpius' death just like Mr. Malfoy is blaming her. If she ever gets out of this, the first thing she's going to do is hug him and apologize. It wasn't his fault that Scorpius was hit. And the fact that Scorpius was outside at that moment was just an unfortunate coincidence. Dad may have got upset and yelled at Scorpius to leave, but he hadn't wanted Scorpius to die. She's pretty sure, anyway. And she's going to tell him that, the first chance she gets.

She thinks back to that encounter. Dad had found Rose and Scorpius making out in the pantry, and he'd gone ballistic. He'd said mean and uncalled for things. And he'd ordered Scorpius to leave.

Rose had blamed Mum for about two seconds; it was her idea that they live in Muggle London. If they'd stayed away from Muggles, it wouldn't have happened. But then Rose had decided that it didn't make a difference. If Dad hadn't lost his temper over something she knew he had to have done when he was her age, Scorpius wouldn't have been outside and invisible in all that snow. He wouldn't have got hit, and he wouldn't have died.

And Mr. Malfoy is saying the same. If Scorpius hadn't been dating Rose, he wouldn't have been in the situation where he died. But Rose knows it wasn't her fault, and now she knows it wasn't Dad's either.

She drops down, but her hands are still shackled tightly. A moment later, she feels it. The mind-blowing pain. Her shoulders have slid right out of their sockets. She's dangling closer to the ground now, but she doesn't dare try to find purchase with her feet again. The pain is making her vision spin; any movement will only make it worse. Or kill her.

The tears flow from her eyes like a dam inside her has broken. It isn't long before snot clogs her nose, and she can't breathe because she can't stop crying. She's pretty sure it's possible to die from this much pain.

The sky outside is growing lighter, but not light enough to obliterate the stars. Maybe it'll be just a short while before Mum comes to check on her, to try to convince her to eat breakfast. She'll find Rose missing, and soon after, the entire Ministry will be looking for her. She'll be out of here soon. If she can just hang on a bit longer.

And then Mr. Malfoy returns. Again, there's no indication that he's Apparated in. He steps out of the shadows into the center of the cave, and Rose wonders if there might be a door hidden in the dark. He's wearing a more wrinkled version of the same clothes he had on when he left her, and he looks as if he hasn't slept.

He eyes the manacle, his gaze traveling down to her shoulders. He grins. "Ready to talk?"

"I..." She coughs, and a wad of phlegm enters her mouth. Not wanting to try to turn and spit it out, she swallows it back down. "I... I can't. Hurts... too much."

"Yeah." He walks toward her. "And I can make it hurt more."

"No. D-don't. Please."

"Admit what you did."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. If that's the only way out of this... "Fine. I... I..." She shakes her head. "I can't say it."

Mr. Malfoy's expression contorts. His gray eyes have darkened so much they almost look black. Rose can see his hands shaking. Her eyes slide to his wand, but it doesn't move. His other hand does. The back of it smashes into her face with enough force to make her head whip to one side. Her entire body swings in one direction, and she screams; the excruciating agony in her arms feels like they really have torn off her body.

She expects that another blow will follow, but Mr. Malfoy seems to have grown bored with hitting her in the face. The next thing Rose feels is two hands wrapping around her neck, thumbs pressing against her windpipe, and her lungs losing oxygen. If her hands were free, she'd try to loosen his grip, but as it is, she can only dangle and choke.

Just when the world starts to grow darker, and Rose thinks she's going to pass out, Mr. Malfoy releases her. The rush of air shocks her lungs. They can't seem to handle it; she can't breathe, just cough. Her neck is sore, but she tries to swallow.

"Devious whore," he spits. "Trying to trick me into killing you."

She doesn't ask why she would be insane enough to do that.

"I won't make it that easy. It wasn't that easy for my son." His eyes travel over her. "Let's just see what my son found so attractive about you."

With a wave of his wand, her nightgown comes apart and falls to the ground. The pain it causes as it brushes over her feet is more than any bit of fabric ever should. It's enough to distract her from the knowledge that Mr. Malfoy has just stripped her. Once the jolt has subsided, there's nothing that can take her mind off being naked in front of him. And she can't even lower her arms to try for some semblance of modesty.

Mr. Malfoy openly appraises her. His eyes inspect her breasts, her stomach, and the patch of hair between her legs. His eyes narrow for a moment, and then he walks around her. He stops behind her, and she can feel his eyes roaming her body. Long moments later, he completes the circle, coming back to her front. She can feel the heat of humiliation rising to her face, and she can only hope he doesn't see it.

"I've seen worse," he says. "I've seen better, as well. But a teenage boy who doesn't know any better... I guess you'd do."

This time, Rose has no intention of goading him. Floating naked and bound just in front of him, she knows she's as vulnerable as it's possible to be, and she's not going to give him any reason to slice off a nipple, or whatever the fucking bastard has planned.

"There is one really annoying thing about your skin, though." He flicks his wand, and burns her upper right arm. "That's better."

Rose doesn't even cry out; it hurts little more than a sting. He flicks the wand again, and another burn appears beside the first. Combined, they are uncomfortable, but bearable. Until he has repeated the action a half dozen more times on that one arm. The burns aren't very severe, but they are beginning to hurt as if she'd just stretched a limb that had long since fallen asleep; worse than pins, needles, and the sudden rush of blood, but not as bad as she knows Mr. Malfoy can make it.

She closes her eyes, breathing through a clenched jaw, and letting the air out the same way. Compared to what happened before, this is nothing. She can take this.

The next stab of pain is worse, like she imagines a localized Cruciatus would be. Her flesh feels like it's curling away from her body, opening up so deeply that her organs must be on display. She screams, her eyes flying open. Her abdomen is still perfectly intact.

"Good," he says. "It's no fun if you don't scream. Don't make me do that again."

She wants to tell him that she didn't _make_ him do it this time. She wants to let him know what a sick fuck he is. But she doesn't think it's smart to push him.

She sniffles, trying to stop the snot from running out of her nose. "Please, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sorry for what happened, and I know you want revenge, but-"

"I want _justice_ for what happened to my son. I want to make you pay."

"I _did not_ hurt Scorpius. I love him. If you want to make someone pay, go after the Muggle who hit him."

"Already done. But she wouldn't have had the chance to get near my son if it weren't for you."

"I didn't-"

A slash of pain stops her. Mr. Malfoy has flicked his wand again. This time, there's no burn, just a deep purple bruise blossoming on her upper left arm. It's like he was trying to cut her, but couldn't quite manage to break the skin. She doesn't want him to try again. She gasps, and a small squeal escapes, but nothing so distinct as a scream. His expression twists into a glare as he raises his wand. Before he can do anything more, she screams, hoping it's enough to deter him.

It seems to have worked. "Admit it," he says. "Admit that it's your fault."

She says nothing. She won't admit it, and she doesn't see any point in continuing to deny it. Though she wants to blame him, to tell him that he drove Scorpius away, she keeps quiet.

"Say it," he says. "You killed my son. Say it." He steps toward her, narrowing the distance between them. "Say it, or so help me-"

"I love Scorpius. I didn't kill him. I would never have hurt him." She doesn't want to say more. Mr. Malfoy has the upper hand, and she knows it.

"You _love_ him?" Mr. Malfoy looks as if he wants to throttle her for that. "You think you loved him more than I do?"

Rose sees that for the trap that it is; a yes will infuriate Mr. Malfoy, and a no will invite his taunts. Part of her wants to say that, yes, she does think so. She wants to tell him that just because he sired Scorpius doesn't mean he has a permanent claim on him, or that Scorpius had to be exactly as he wanted him.

But she knows how stupid that would be. Every nerve in her body is crying for relief. Her arms and back are an inferno of pain. And she has no desire to make matters worse for herself. She keeps silent, hoping that she won't provoke Mr. Malfoy and that she can buy time until the Ministry finds her.

"Do you, you stupid little whore?"

Rose says nothing.

"Say you meant nothing to him. And say you killed him."

She shakes her head. "I won't say it," she says softly.

"We'll see. The Ministry can say it's not your fault all they want. But we both know it is. And I am going to hear you say it."

He moves the wand away from her face, pointing it instead at her body. The manacle falls away, and she lands on her side, though her arms remain fixed upward. It feels like she's just broken every bone in both arms. She feels like someone has taken a dagger of fire and begun to cut at her bones.

The cry caused by the impact has barely left her mouth before she feels an altogether different agony. Every nerve, follicle and cell is crippled with pain. It latches on to every fiber of her being, eating at her more ferociously than a piranha, and with at least eight times the gusto. The sensation of fiery daggers would be soothing next to this. She's sure she can feel her entire body being pulled apart, down to the thinnest hair being split straight down the center. She screams and gasps, and is on the verge of telling him every secret she has if it means the pain stops.

When it stops, she's flat on her back, still screaming at so high a pitch that her throat hurts.

"Had enough?" Mr. Malfoy asks.

Unable to speak, Rose groans. She wants nothing more than to curl up and never move again.

"Guess not."

It's just as excruciating the second time. Muscles are melting from her body, forming a muddy puddle. She wants to die to make it stop, but she has a feeling her ghost would still experience the reverberations.

When Mr. Malfoy lifts the Cruciatus this time, Rose is crying so hard, she can barely breathe. The burns on her arms and stomach, and her dislocated arms, are throbbing at the same rate as her heartbeat; too fast to be human. Her throat is hoarse and so sore she can't even beg him to stop. She's shaking like a hypothermia victim, and it's just intensifying the agony. She hopes the next spell will be the death curse, because she can't go through that again.

"Ready to admit it?"

She doesn't move. Doesn't respond in any way.

"You're just as stubborn and stupid as your mother. Your kind thinks it's brave to suffer the Cruciatus and lose your minds rather than saying a few words. Maybe something else will make you talk."

Rose wants to say no. She wants to plead for him to stop. But her voice has gone into hiding.

Mr. Malfoy turns away from her, and walks to a darker corner of the cave. "I was hoping to get a chance to use this." He returns with an opaque jar that looks like someone made it from a small vase. "My son once told me that his..." He sneers the next word, "...girlfriend was too afraid to go into the Forbidden Forest after she found out there were giant spiders in there. He said she was terrified of them."

It might be because of the Cruciatus, but Rose's brain can't grasp what her arachnophobia has to do with anything.

"I think I should find out just _how_ afraid."

He lifts the lid from the jar and sticks his hand in. It re-emerges with a spider the size of a dinner plate, which is far too big for that jar.

Rose's heart stammers. Her throat closes, and she wishes she could curl into a ball, or do _something_ to protect herself. She shakes her head from side to side, but still can't manage a vocal 'no'.

Mr. Malfoy stands over her, dangling the spider just above her head.

Tears of unadulterated terror prick at her eyes. She thinks she's going to pass out.

Mr. Malfoy laughs, and this time there's genuine amusement in it. "I'm not going to drop this," he says. "It would be too easy."

Rose doesn't believe him. She knows he's just messing with her, trying to convince her of one thing, so he can see her fear when he does the opposite.

"Get up."

"C...Can't," Rose coughs. "My arms..."

Mr. Malfoy frowns. Irritation on his face, he points his wand at her.

She tries to brace herself, but her shoulder moves before she can. It slides back into place with a loud pop. He repeats the spell on her other arm. It's just as agonizing as when they first popped out. But she can move them now, and that's an improvement. She rubs her shoulders, trying to relax the muscles.

"Stop that. I didn't do it so you can feel better. I did it so you can do what I tell you to do. Get up."

She doesn't. Her entire body is shaking, but she otherwise does not move.

"Get up, or I _will_ drop it. I'll let it crawl over you. I'll shrink it so it can get into your mouth and cunt."

There's no doubt in Rose's mind that Mr. Malfoy will do all those things in the time it takes the average person to blink. She starts to stretch out, but it feels like the muscles are clinging to each other, not wanting to be spread apart.

Mr. Malfoy is still standing over her, and still has the spider. Fear makes her gasp resemble that of a drowning woman searching for oxygen. She rolls backwards, upsetting every part of her, but not caring. The wall stops her progress.

"Get. Up." Mr. Malfoy is at the end of his patience.

The cave wall is uneven, with crevices deep enough to pass for handholds. Rose lifts herself to her knees and starts looking for two holes at about the same height.

"No. Wait."

She looks at him.

"I like that a lot better. Yeah. You on your knees like that. Crawl over to me."

It's not the humiliation of crawling to him that's getting to Rose. It's crawling to him while he's holding a spider bigger than her head. But his threat still rings in her head, and she doesn't want him to carry it out. She has no choice. Leaning onto all fours, she makes her way over to him. Each movement sends waves of pain through her body, but it's lessening. It's a small thing to be grateful for, but she appreciates it just the same.

At first, she thinks she's imagining that he's moving further away from her the closer she gets. Then, she sees him take two steps back for every meter or so that she crawls. He's leading her towards one of the dark shapes in the shadows against the cave wall, and she knows that if she stops to ask what he's doing, he's going to petrify her and let the spider have free reign over her body.

Mr. Malfoy stops beside something large and rectangular, but it's too deep in the shadows for Rose to identify at first. She pauses when she sees he's stopped. She doesn't want to know what that thing is, fearing it is some sick torture device. But when she arrives before him, she can tell that it's only a trunk. Her stomach relaxes, only to immediately constrict again; it's Scorpius' school trunk and Rose doesn't think that's a coincidence.

"Get in," Mr. Malfoy says.

"Why?" She can't help the question.

"Because I told you to."

Images of sealed trunks buried beneath mounds of dirt while she's still screaming inside assault Rose's mind. It's something she's sure Mr. Malfoy would do, so that she dies with Scorpius all around her, and never forgets why she's being punished.

Mr. Malfoy drops the spider. It falls so close to Rose that she can feel the air as it brushes past her face. She screams and scrambles backwards.

The spider scuttles off in another direction, oblivious to her panic.

"The next one won't miss," Mr. Malfoy says.

Rose looks back at the trunk. She's starting to feel that she doesn't have much choice. It's either climb in there, or become a nesting place for giant spiders. It's either get into what will become her coffin, or endure her worst fear for a while.

Then it occurs to Rose that Mr. Malfoy would probably rather die than take something of his son's and give it to Rose to spend eternity in. She's confused as to why he's letting her into the trunk even now.

But she can't analyze his actions now. There's no time. She pulls herself up, her hands on the edge of the trunk. She's almost fully upright; she can't put her entire weight on her feet and instead puts the bulk of it on her arms. Then she hesitates again. It would be so much easier if Mr. Malfoy would just levitate her inside. Forcing herself to climb inside, while having no idea what's about to happen, is a unique torment all on its own. Her arms are shaking. She can't support herself much longer. She sits on the edge of the trunk. Then, she inhales, closes her eyes, and lets herself fall inside. She waits to find out that Mr. Malfoy has altered the trunk and it's bottomless and she's going to fall forever.

But she doesn't. She lands on something soft, as if Scorpius' clothes are still inside. But she knows that can't be right. Something else is going on.

She waits for the trunk to slam shut and the sound of shovelfulls of dirt landing on it, or something else that will tell her she's being buried. She waits for the whole thing to fill with water, drowning her before she can stop it.

But instead, nothing happens.

At first.

Then, the soft surface beneath her begins to move. As it scrapes her skin, she realizes it has thorns. Her stomach spasms; she's landed on Devil's Snare. She makes a bid to escape, but the vines creep over her arms and legs, hugging her to them like she's a lost love.

"Boggarts are a pathetic way to make someone face their fears," Mr. Malfoy says, reaching into the jar again. "But they do make me wonder..." He holds up another giant spider. "Can we really laugh our fears away?" Lowering it into the trunk, but still holding it, he says, "I think it's time you found out."

Rose struggles to get free. The thorns slice at her, but she doesn't care. She'd rather cut herself to ribbons than let that hairy, multi-eyed, evil, creepy thing touch her.

Mr. Malfoy drops it on her, and she screams, her struggles becoming increasingly violent. Her heart is racing so fast, it's stopped beating and started humming. Though there is only one spider, Rose feels covered in them. It's on her stomach, but she can feel its tiny hairs on her face, neck, arms and legs. She's certain she can feel sharp teeth breaking her skin, injecting her with poison. She knows that just as soon as she's dead, that foul thing is going to use her as a nest. It's going to lay its eggs in her, and when the horrid babies hatch, she's going to be their first meal.

The sickening sensation of the spider crawling over her has barely begun before Mr. Malfoy drops another spider on her. And another. And another. Until there's no part of her that doesn't feel coated in them.

The room goes dark, and Rose's ears ring with the sound of the lid banging shut. Mr. Malfoy must have wanted the spiders to have no escape, as well. To have no option but to swarm over her, inject their paralyzing venom, which is just a few seconds from taking effect. She knows it. She can feel it.

Then, she feels a wet warmth running down her legs. Initially, she's sure it's excess spider venom. They've bitten her so much that there's no more room in her body for it. She'll die before she can draw another breath.

But when a strong and unmistakable odor begins to fill the space, she realizes what she's done to herself. A deeper panic overtakes her. The spiders will be drawn to it. They'll trace it back to its source. They'll crawl inside her just like Mr. Malfoy threatened to make them do.

It occurs to Rose that these may not be ordinary giant spiders. They might be mutants or specially transfigured so that, in darkness, they grow to baby acromantula size. And then they mate with the nearest warm body. Which is her. She's going to be raped by acromantula. And she can't get away or stop it.

She's going to be sick. She can feel the vomit roiling around in her stomach, making its way up her esophagus. She doesn't want to; she doesn't want to lure them to her mouth, where they'll nestle in her throat and suffocate her.

Her screams stop. There's a hairy leg on her mouth, and it's obvious a whole spider will soon follow. She doesn't dare to part her lips. Her lungs don't seem to have the same capacity they used to; she's hyperventilating. Her throat is closing. Darkness pushes at the edge of her vision, until it's all she knows.

When she regains consciousness, she's still in the trunk, the Snare is still coiled around her, but the only spiders are the ones her crawling skin says are still there. Every other sense says they are gone. Her arms, legs and stomach are drumming out the beat of her pulse. She's still wet, but the smell has dissipated some, owing, no doubt, to the fact that the lid of the trunk has been lifted. She cranes her neck, and finds that there is dried blood smeared on her and the vine, but the bleeding itself appears to have stopped.

Mr. Malfoy is watching her, a smirk on his face. "You fainted. I can't believe it. Over a few little spiders." He sounds close to laughing. "And you peed yourself. You actually peed yourself. You must be so humiliated. I bet you want to try again and prove that you can handle a couple spiders."

"No." Rose's voice is hoarse and gravelly. She turns her wrists, hoping she can break free. She can't go through that again. The hysterical thoughts she subjected herself to were almost as bad as the spiders themselves. "No. Don't."

"Right. Because that'll work." He looks over at something Rose can't see. "I heard a lot of stupid things after my son died. Among the worst was that facing adversity and suffering will make us stronger. If that actually turns out to be true, you'll be Herculean by the time I'm through with you." His eyes return to her. "I want to pour those spiders over you again. Watching you try to squirm away from them was one of the funniest things I've seen in a while. But it's no fun if you're not awake to try." He looks disappointed at the thought. Then he smiles manically. "That's okay. I've got something else planned."

He points his wand at her. Green light streaks through the air. Rose screams and cringes, expecting it's the Death Curse. But all it does is incinerate the Devil's Snare; Mr. Malfoy must be growing bored of using fire.

"Get up," he says.

"No. I... I can't." It's half-true. The other half is that she doesn't want to.

This time, Mr. Malfoy doesn't threaten her. He doesn't say a word. He just reaches into the trunk, grabs her by the hair, and forces her upright. Her back screams in agony, and she realizes the thorns must have cut her there as well. She gasps, trying to pull away.

"Stop," she says. "Please. It... It hurts."

"I want you to beg, not to whinge," he says. "I've barely hurt you." He brings his face closer to hers. "Just wait. I'm only getting started."

He pulls her from the trunk. The pain from the Cruciatus has long since worn off, but the bottoms of her feet still ache. Trickles of liquid that must have pooled while she was horizontal now leak down her legs. She hopes Mr. Malfoy doesn't notice; she doesn't want to hear the snide remarks that will follow. Since he doesn't appear to want to levitate her this time, nor is he forcing her to crawl, she has no choice except to hop along like a rabbit on hot coals.

Mr. Malfoy pushes Rose to the ground. She lands face-first. When she turns around, he's standing over her, his wand pointed at her face.

"Tell me, or I'll get even more creative."

Rose has almost forgotten that this is - in part - about Mr. Malfoy wanting information. But if she gives it to him, he'll have no more reason to keep her alive.

Her insides are writhing in fear. She can't endure much more of this. "I've told you. He was going to leave England. That's all I know. Please. Please, stop this. I'm telling you the truth."

He considers her. His mouth opens, then closes again. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. "You're going to tell me. Whether you say it or not."

Rose doesn't tell him that doesn't make sense. She's done doing anything that might make him hurt her; one more twinge of pain, and she might spill every secret she's ever had.

"I still think it's strange that that locket won't open at all. You must know how to do it, or my son wouldn't have sent it to you."

"The _locket?_" She can't believe that Mr. Malfoy is still talking about a simple necklace. It's obvious that Scorpius got her a Rose necklace because that's her name. Mr. Malfoy is out of his mind to obsess over it.

"You see," he goes on, talking as if she hadn't spoken, "I think my son might have hidden something in there. Something about this secret you won't talk about."

That thought had never crossed Rose's mind. She's surprised that it has crossed Mr. Malfoy's. But Scorpius would never have been stupid enough to do something like that.

"And I think that, whatever Scorpius was talking about, it doesn't matter now."

He summons the necklace, and holds it out to her. "Then you won't mind opening it."

She runs her thumb over it. The roses are raised, and she can feel each petal against her skin. And, just as Mr. Malfoy said, there's a hinge.

"What makes you think I can open it when you couldn't?" she asks.

"Because it was meant for you. Now, open it, or I'll hang you upside down this time."

Rose isn't convinced that, if it's magically sealed, she can open it. But she doesn't want her legs popping out, nor does she want to pass out and leave her unconscious body to his mercy, as will undoubtedly happen when the blood rushes to her head. Sliding her fingernail into the crevice, she tries to open the locket.

It comes free with no trouble at all.

Inside, it appears to be empty. Then, she sees an engraving in cursive writing. It says: Soon. All my love.

She freezes. It's starting to dawn on her how stupid she's being in keeping this secret. It's not bad. It's nothing to be ashamed of. But she and Scorpius had decided together to keep it from both their families until they had left school. Mum might have taken it well, but Dad would have sent her to live with Aunt Gabrielle in France before he let her marry a Malfoy.

Scorpius hadn't told Mr. Malfoy about Rose, either. All he'd said was that he had a girlfriend that Mr. Malfoy would meet soon. If he'd said anything to his dad, they both knew Rose's dad would know soon after. Besides, Scorpius had a great plan for revealing the truth to Mr. Malfoy.

Scorpius had grown so sick of his father's bigoted outlook on life and constant put-downs, not just of those he deemed inferior, but of Scorpius as well when he behaved "unMalfoy-like" that he had planned a dramatic exit; complete with an "Oh, by the way, Dad, I'm marrying Rose Weasley and we're going to have lots of sex and maybe a few babies, but definitely lots of sex, and I'm thinking I might take her name because Weasley is so much cooler than Malfoy anyway, and I hate you and you'll never see me again" kiss-off. Which would only be effective if Scorpius was of age, out of school, and didn't have to turn to his father for anything.

So they had decided to wait. Mr. Malfoy did not know Scorpius was visiting Rose until after Scorpius had died.

Of course, with Scorpius dead there's no point in keeping the secret any longer. Rose knows that. But she can't bring herself to voice it. It's like, as long as she doesn't tell anyone, it's still just between her and Scorpius, like she can keep a part of him alive. Logically, she knows that's hogwash. But she still can't bring herself to say anything to anyone. It would be like letting him die altogether. And she's not ready for that, yet.

She looks up at Mr. Malfoy. "It's just a locket. Nothing special." Her voice is quiet. She can hear how it's got to her.

Mr. Malfoy looks unbelieving. "Do you really think that refusing to tell me is going to work? That refusing to admit what you did will keep you safe? I'm not going to keep you alive here indefinitely and risk getting caught. Is keeping your mouth shut worth your life?"

She can't muster any other defiance than to say, "I've got nothing to tell, Mr. Malfoy." Her voice is flat.

"Damn it." He grabs her by the neck and lifts her to her feet.

She grabs on to his arm, trying to pull him off of her. "Let me go."

He walks forward, forcing her to stumble back until she collides with the wall. She tries to find a way to take the pressure off her feet, but it's Mr. Malfoy who does it by levitating her until she's at the same height as him. Getting close to her face, he demands, "You say what I want you to say, or I swear I'm going to-"

"Kill me? So you've said. About a dozen times. Do it, or shut up about it." For all his threats, she doesn't think he's planning to kill her. Torture her, yes. But not kill her. Knowing that he'll continue torturing her makes her question the intelligence of goading him, but she doesn't care. Seeing the locket and remembering her plans with Scorpius has filled her with fresh a surge of grief and rage.

She's never felt as much animosity toward Mr. Malfoy as Dad has, but after all this she's surpassed Dad's hatred of the man. She wants to kill him, to castrate him, to draw and quarter him, to pull his intestines slowly from his body and make him watch as they're burned, or eaten by wild dogs. She wants to hurt him worse than he's hurt her.

He presses his free hand to one of her burns, and she hisses at the jolt of pain. "You want it worse? I can make it worse. Tell me."

"You can't do it, can you? You just keep finding new excuses not to. I'm not afraid of you, _Draco._ You didn't have balls when you were sixteen, and you don't have them now."

He glares at her. She holds his gaze.

"Let's find out," he says.

Her stomach turns. "Find out what?"

"If you're right." His gaze travels over her body once again. "Yeah. Let's find out."

Now, her stomach shrinks to nothing. Her lungs stop functioning. Even her heart has slowed in shock. She stares at Mr. Malfoy. He can't mean that. He _can't._

"No," she says. "I swear, if you even try it, I'll-"

"What? Hurl more insults at me?"

"I won't let you."

He laughs. "You think you can stop me. That's funny."

"You sick bastard. I know you're lying. You're not going to sleep with the person you say killed your son."

"No. But I'm going to fuck her." He steps back and, with one motion of his wand, she falls.

She tries to stand, despite the pain in her feet. Mr. Malfoy shoves her back down. As soon as she tries to move again, he grabs her arm, turns her around, and forces her onto her stomach. She lifts herself up, and starts to crawl away. But Mr. Malfoy's hand closes around her ankle, and drags her back. Pebbles cut into the thin flesh where she's been burned and hurt enough to make her squeal.

"That's good," Mr. Malfoy says, his knee pressing into her back to stop her moving again. "I like them noisy. It's nice to know I won't have to work hard to make you squeal for me."

Bracing her hands on the ground and trying to push up, she bites out through clenched teeth, "Go fuck yourself."

She can tell that he's moving, but not what he's doing. She tries again to throw him off, but he's too heavy.

He slides his knee down to the backs of her legs. She closes her legs, pressing them as tightly together as she can. Fingers pinch the bottom of her right foot, and the jolt of pain makes her jerk away from them. Mr. Malfoy's knee fills the now empty space.

"Lift your hips," he says.

She scoffs. "Yeah, right."

Fingernails drag against the bottom of her left foot. It hurts, but she's determined not to move it. Mr. Malfoy becomes more aggressive, digging his nails in until she can't stand it any longer. She pulls her foot away from him, realizing she's folding her knee toward her body and slightly lifting her waist, but unable to stop herself.

Mr. Malfoy stops tormenting her foot. Rose starts to stretch her leg out again to flatten herself, but he's faster. His arm wraps around her waist, stopping her from lowering it.

"Too easy," he says. "But then, I already knew that about you." He rests his chin on her shoulder. "I suppose you offered that filthy cunt to my son with no protest."

She can smell the weeks-old dirt on him. Keeping her face the other direction, she asks, "If it's so filthy, why are you so eager to fuck it?"

He's moving again, holding her more firmly to him, lifting her higher. "To know that I had my son's murderer pinned beneath me, begging me to let her come, or to stop, I don't care which... For that, I'll ignore what a disgusting slut you are."

"You son of a-"

Before she can finish, she feels his cock start to push at her cunt, trying to find its way in.

She grunts, renewing her struggles to get away from him. Her muscles still hurt, and she's losing strength as she fights with him. Her heart jolts when she realizes that there's no getting away. "_Stop it._" She claws at the ground, trying to find something she can use to pull herself farther away from him. "_Stop,_ or I _swear_ I'm going to-"

"Swear and make threats but never do anything about it. Unless you think being naked and wandless gives you an advantage?"

His cock is slipping inside her, rubbing against her dry cunt. She inhales sharply, balling her hands into fists. It feels like sandpaper, and she can't help but wiggle around in an attempt to dislodge him.

But he doesn't hesitate to keep moving until his balls are nestled against her. Then, he pulls back so far she thinks he's going to pull out. He doesn't. He slams back into her, all the way, his arm tightening around her stomach each time he does it. He starts a punishing rhythm so fast, it's as if he's trying to ram through her cunt and into her intestines.

Rose places her forehead on one of her fists. It's like a battering ram is attacking her, and even though her cunt has started to get wet in pure self-defense, it's not getting any better. She wants to scream, to beg him to stop, but she won't give in. All she can do is tell herself that, if he's going this fast, he'll be done soon. And when he is, he'll be so exhausted he won't be able to stop her from cutting off his cock with the sharpest rock she can find.

He pauses in his thrusts. "I find it hard to believe that my son enjoyed fucking a corpse." The sentence is barely out before he starts again.

Rose grits her teeth. She says nothing at first. But she can't remain silent for long. Her words come in spurts; she has to stop each time he pushes back in. "Scorpius... made love... to me. You're... raping me. There's a... difference."

He pushes in, presses his lips to her ear and whispers, "Then tell me what you did with my son."

Of all the things Rose had expected Mr. Malfoy would say, that wasn't it. What sort of parent wants to know those things about their child?

"Go to hell," she says. It's too mild for the situation, but she can't think of anything else.

"Tell me. Or else I'll fuck you raw, flip you over, and start from the beginning."

She shakes her head, clenching her jaw and remaining silent. She keeps telling herself he'll come soon, and it'll be over.

He grunts, sliding out. Rose thinks he's going to carry out his threat and turn her over, but he shoves back in, regaining that torturous speed. She hadn't believed it was possible to literally fuck a cunt raw, but she's starting to change her mind. His cock feels like it's scratching against her with every movement, and she's not wet enough to counteract it. She can see bits of her being pulled out of her body. When he's done, Mr. Malfoy will show her the blood, tissue, and who-knows-what-else and brag about how she tore more than a virgin, or something equally vulgar.

Tears prick her eyes. She blinks them back, focusing on her anger and not the pain. She will _not_ cry.

It feels like years before Mr. Malfoy thrusts in and stops. His shaking hands grip her back, and the most obscene moan Rose has ever heard fills the cave as he empties himself inside her. He collapses onto her back, panting his foul breath across her skin.

She tries to heave him off. "Get away from me."

"Tell me what I want to know. Or I'm going to stay right here until I get hard again, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't touch yourself without thinking about my cock. And when I'm done, I'll do it again. And again. Until you tell me."

Her cunt is throbbing, and the last thing she wants is for him to rape her again. But she doesn't want to talk about sex with Scorpius, either. The tears are more insistent than she had expected. They begin to roll down her checks. She wipes her face on her arm, hoping that Mr. Malfoy hasn't noticed. Still remaining silent, she tries to worm out from under him.

He lifts himself up, but not completely off her. She feels his hand between her thighs, his fingers pushing past her cunt lips and pinching and stroking her clit.

"This time," he says, "you're going to _beg_ me to come."

Rose tries to buck him off, but isn't surprised when it has no effect whatsoever. She doesn't let that stop her. Inhaling, she tries with all her strength to get away from him, grunting with the effort, but it's futile.

"Oh, I like that," he says. "It's always better with sound. Moans, groans..." He presses his lips against her ear and whispers, "If you're a screamer, feel free."

He fondles her clit even faster, and it's not an entirely unpleasant sensation. Even as Rose acknowledges this, her entire being buzzes with disgust. She can't let this go on; she can't get anywhere near coming for him.

"_Okay,_" she says. "Okay. Fine. You win. I'll tell you."

"I thought you might. And don't lie, because if I even _think_ you are, you'll be showing me how you sucked off my son until your jaw doesn't close anymore."

He's still massaging her clit, and her attempts to close her legs on his hand prove pointless.

"I'm going to tell you," she says. "You can get away from me now."

"I don't think so. I'm going to stay right here. This way, when you start to lie, I can fuck you with no problem."

"I'm _not_ going to lie."

"Then you have nothing to worry about." He leans in closer, as if she's going to tell the most fascinating story he's ever heard. "Start talking."

Rose presses her forehead to the ground. "I don't-"

"I can't hear you." He gives her clit a hard pinch. "Try again."

She turns her head toward him. It crosses her mind to lie rather than share intimate details of her life with his son, but her cunt is still pounding, and if she makes the tiniest mistake in detail or continuity, he might catch it, and she has zero doubts that he'll fuck her, and stuff his cock down her throat without giving it a second thought. She chooses something from early in their relationship. Somehow, that feels less intrusive than the most recent times they'd made love.

"I was walking through one of the hidden corridors, trying to get to class. I thought I was alone, but Scorpius was hiding. He stopped me. Said he'd..." She stops. She _really_ doesn't want to do this. But she's still aware of his hand between her legs, his cock softer than before, but still stiff enough to be inside her. Clearing her throat, she says, "Said he'd make it worth my while to be even later. And, erm, he did."

Mr. Malfoy is momentarily silent. Then, he says, "I think, before I make you suck me, I'm going to take your arse. You can lick your shit off my cock." He starts to move.

Rose's stomach clenches. "_No._ No, wait. Please."

"Why?"

"I wasn't finished. I was just... trying to think how to explain what happened next. See, I told him that he'd better _really_ make it worth my while."

He stops. "Keep going."

She inwardly sighs; she's dodged a bullet on that. Of course, now it means she has to tell him and she can't fudge around anything; she won't risk it.

"I pushed him down. Kind of. He went willingly. He..." Merlin, this is getting worse. "He, erm... Well, what do you _think_ he was on his knees for?"

"I want to hear you say it."

"He..." She closes her eyes. Maybe blocking out her surroundings and mentally removing herself from the man molesting her will make it easier. "He licked me until I came." She says it all at once; like drinking an unpleasant potion. "Then, he held... I was against the wall, and we had sex. By the time we were done, I was very late for class, but it was worth it. Just like he'd said."

"That's not good enough. I want _details._ Everything he said and did. Everything you did. Every." He pinches her clit. "Single." Another pinch. "Thing."

Rose's stomach turns. Why would anyone want to know all this? But she knows she can't point out how sick he's being. She decides to just tell him what he wants to know.

"When he was... licking me... He did it slowly. In and out and it was _so slow._" It's making her stomach churn to do this. She swallows her discomfort; the alternative is Mr. Malfoy's cock balls-deep in her arse. "He tended to put it in just the right spot, and lick in just the right way..." She pauses, hating every second of this. "I had my hand in his hair and I was pushing against him and telling him to go faster. But he didn't. He just kept up that slow pace until I came."

"Then what?"

"Then he stood up and kissed me. It was crazy and passionate, like he wanted to devour me. It was perfect. And I... I slid my hand into his robes, and I... You know... I..." She clears her throat and tries again. "I was holding his... I was touching him, erm, I was..." How can she put it? "I started to stroke him. I told him..." She hesitates. She doesn't want Mr. Malfoy to know that her first few attempts with Scorpius had been unmitigated disasters for a variety of reasons, including once when he came far too early, and that she still liked to tease him about it. It always made him even more eager to fuck her, as if to prove that those days were in the past. "I told him I was going to suck him, but he said he wanted to be inside me."

"Stop."

Oh, shit. Has he caught the lie?

He moves away from her. "Get on your knees, turn around, and face me."

Happy not to have her arse or cunt so readily available to him, Rose does as she's told. And immediately wishes she were facing the other way.

Mr. Malfoy is still exposed, his cock half-hard between his legs.

"Show me," he says. "Touch me like you touched my son."

It's sad how unsurprised Rose is by that command. She must be growing used to Mr. Malfoy's brand of twistedness. However, she is not nearly as used to the idea of touching him.

"_What?_" she asks. "No."

"Do it."

She looks around, desperate for some sign of escape or rescue. But there's none. She's starting to cry again. Wiping her face, she looks back at Mr. Malfoy. His cock twitches when he sees her tears.

"Please," she whispers. "I... Don't make me... Please."

"You can either make me hard with your mouth or with your hand. Your choice."

Rose licks her lips. Then, making a face, she takes his cock into her hand. She entertains the idea of squeezing him until she cuts off circulation and it falls off. The knowledge that she has nowhere to run or escape to is what stops her. Instead, she strokes him in firm but gentle movements, up and down, until he starts to swell and thicken.

He leans back onto his elbows, watching her face. "You said he said he wanted to be inside you."

She looks at the ground, picking a rock to stare at. "Yes."

"Finish the story."

"He pulled my hand away. Like I said, I was against the wall. He stood so close to me, I was pretty much trapped between it and him." Her hand touches the tip of his cock, and she feels his precome. She adjusts her fingers so that they stay near the base. "I wrapped a leg around his waist and we had sex. He moved somewhere between fast and slow. Until-"

"Show me."

Her eyes snap back to him. "_Show you?_ How can I _show you_ something like that?"

He looks at her in disgust. "Are you not catching on? Fuck me like you fucked my son."

Rose's hand drops from his cock as if it had stung her. "_What?_ You've _got_ to be kidding. I'm not going to-"

"You are if you don't want me to fuck your arse until you can't sit any more." He adjusts himself so that he's flat on his back.

She wants to kill him all over again. Making her talk about it is one thing. Making her talk about it while she's fucking him? She's going to _kill_ him.

This is worse than a nightmare. Mr. Malfoy wants to force her to be an active participant in her own rape.

She can't do it. She can't climb on top of him and ride him; the mere idea makes her want to be sick all over him. She'd even prefer to be sick over herself than to do what he's asking.

"P-Please, Mr. Malfoy. Don't... I'll say whatever you want me to say, okay? Just... I can't... I can't..."

"I told you not to whinge. Go on. Spread your legs for me just like you did for my son."

She's getting desperate. "No. I... You wanted to know about the secret, didn't you? I'll tell you. And if you don't believe me, you can put me back in those chains, or set me on fire, or whatever. Please."

"What makes you think I won't do all those things anyway?"

"I-"

"Show me. Show me what you did with my son. Or I'll hang you upside down and bury my cock in your arse until you do."

If that was the alternative, Rose would take it. But Mr. Malfoy said he'd do it until she did as he ordered. No matter what, she's going to lose. She _will_ show him what he wants to know. The only thing that's up to her is if she does it now, or endures untold pain before doing it later.

She lifts herself up, hesitating before lowering herself onto his cock. The only thing to smooth the way is what's left over from his orgasm: not much at all. It hurts worse this time because she's already sore, but she starts to rock her hips, mimicking the speed that Scorpius had used on the encounter she's describing. She clenches her jaw, trying not to show him how much pain she's in, but she can hear little hisses escaping each time she moves.

"How long did he move like this?" Mr. Malfoy asks.

She looks away from him. "Until-"

"Look at me," he says. "Look right into my eyes."

Swallowing, she forces her gaze back to him, feeling sick as she realizes that now, her memories of that time with Scorpius will forever be tainted. His eyes have that unsettling, empty look again. She feels like, if she keeps talking, that look will become more pronounced. It's as if humanity is leaving him. She'd rather run than continue to make herself fuck him. Too bad that's not an option.

"Until he was ready to come," she replies. "Then, he sped up. He came. And that was that."

Mr. Malfoy's hands move to her waist. By increments, he guides her to go faster and faster, until her cunt is so bruised she's screaming with each movement, and her breasts are bouncing against her chest. When at last he comes in thick, hot spurts, she doesn't hesitate to get off him as quickly as she can.

He's flat on the ground, out of breath, and she'd like nothing more than to jam something down his throat. Not even the feeling of his come trickling down her legs, and the sticky mess on her thighs is enough to distract her from that wish. Sadly, there aren't any rocks big enough nearby.

"You're a sick fuck," she bites out. "I will _kill you_ before I let you touch me again."

His face darkens. "You can't stop me from doing exactly what I want to you."

The truth is, he's right. He can torture her in any way he wants, and all she can do is plead with him to stop. It's both humiliating and infuriating. "You fucking son of a bitch."

His hand enters his robes and comes out with his wand.

Rose's stomach lurches, but she doesn't feel the dread she expects she should. He's going to kill her, he'll probably do something disgusting with her body, and she doesn't care. Merlin help her, she _wants_ him to. At least then all this will be over.

"You know, when Voldemort was alive, he made me do some vile things. I hated him for it at the time. But now?" He starts to smile. "Now I'm glad I get to use them. The methods of torture he taught me." He aims at her. "Well, let me show you my favorite one."

Rose realizes he has no intention of stopping, that what's she's just experienced is only the beginning and it's going to get much worse, and something snaps inside her. She lunges at him, not completely sure what she's doing, only knowing that she has to stop him from hurting her more. She's going to get that damn wand even if it's the last thing she does. Her fingers close around the wood; it's slipping from his hand into hers.

Until he grips her wrist, twisting her hand at a bizarre angle. It hurts like hell, but she refuses to let go. And Mr. Malfoy refuses to stop. Her bones feel on the verge of breaking before she drops it.

He grabs it again, hurrying to his feet before she can take hold of it as well. When he takes aim once more, she runs at him, intent on knocking him over.

But his lips move, and then she sees a flash of light, hears the sound of rushing wings.

And then there's nothing.

*~*~*

The sun is shining the day of the funeral. Almost all the snow has melted away. Every bit of nature looks renewed, eager to start growing and making the world a colorful, beautiful place again, full of laughter, birdsong, and children playing.

They think it's a cruel mockery.

There hasn't been a touch of happiness for a single Weasley or Potter since the moment they found out Rose died.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review [here](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/129858.html?mode=reply).


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